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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782962">Timaeus, Testified</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloncoolie/pseuds/meloncoolie'>meloncoolie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Earth C (Homestuck), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Minor Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Minor Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Not Canon Compliant - The Homestuck Epilogues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Jake English/Dirk Strider, Past John Egbert/Terezi Pyrope, The Homestuck Epilogues, Ultimate Dirk Strider, Ultimate John Egbert, Unhealthy Kismesissitude, there be spoilers in these tags, transmasc rox lalonde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloncoolie/pseuds/meloncoolie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>two gods, one robot, and one troll on a spaceship. shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ACT I - overture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the amount of convincing it took to get this bitchass thing posted i swear to g</p><p>anyway hello this is a story that my best friend jayayey and i have been concocting for months. he's made some content for it and he's done about half of the aforementioned convincing, so. jay if you're reading this, first of all, hi. second of all, thank you. second and a half of all, as a direct note to whoever is reading, please check out his works. they're fucking phenomenal.</p><p>uhh *looks at sharpied text on wrist* </p><p>oh yeah turns out html is shit so if stuff seems off i apologize. thanks to epilogues/val for helping me out</p><p>anyway, you can read now. hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="main">The most uncomfortable atmosphere a human being can exist in is one of absolute silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">It’s not terribly difficult to understand why. The waves of helplessness wash over you and rack your body and nervous system, rendering you vulnerable to the silence no matter how much you wish to fill it. It can be exaggeratedly excruciating. Luckily for you, however, you are avoiding this feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Luckily for you, you are dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">We’ll get to that in a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="selector">&gt; Who are you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Easy question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You are John Egbert, a man whose life was sacrificed not too recently for the sake of a new, higher-functioning, rapidly expanding storyline. Indirectly murdered, so to speak, all to humour one all-encompassing ambition in particular of one certain god. Foiled by the classic “impaled by a massive golden cherub tooth” trope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Because of your current state of being, silence is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a darker, more abstract form of silence fills the space around you. This anti-silence makes up a distinct “lack of silence” - you cannot hear, therefore to you, the concept of silence is irrelevant. Every ounce of everything is gone. What surrounds you is void.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Then there’s a disruption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">It’s a distinct ripple. Much like the tooth formerly encased within your chest, it pierces the void like a spear and you can almost feel it bleeding if you put in the effort. You’re still deaf and blind to the sensation, but you can feel it. And it feels vaguely…</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Before coherent thought can finish arriving, something enters your empty body, metaphorically. You can hardly even differentiate this Thing’s point of entry, because it seems as if it’s floating into you from every single exposed and unexposed orifice on your immobile body. Something pricks your everything and you start to grow warmer, akin to an overheating laptop. Congratulations sir, you’ve graduated from the lowly “corpse” status to the slightly more dignified “unconscious” rung of the state of being ladder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">And your brain starts to whirr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">But you need more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You need a little bit more time before you can wake up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Ten minutes pass, you would think, if you weren’t mostly unconscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">As you slowly regain your sense of self, there are new and, paradoxically, old sensations blooming from certain points on your body. There’s a dull and throbbing pain gathered in the center of your chest. The want to inspect the minor pain washes over you and becomes the ultimately meaningless albeit successful driving force to pry your own eyes open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="selector">&gt; John: Wake up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">What was once filled with the void of silence is now filled with the same silence you know and loathe. Although hopelessly exhausted, despite not being mobile for months, your senses have a bit of a squeaky-clean feel to them, so you decide to put them to use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="selector">&gt; John: Examine room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">While remaining in your lying position, you scan the area you’re residing in. You’re not an expert on interior design, but you’d say this room is closest to a “medium” size. It’s not small enough to be small and not big enough to be big. The walls are a light greyish-white, shadowed by the lack of lighting illuminating them and their surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">If you strain your hearing through the silence, you’ll find that there’s a soft humming rumbling through the walls of the room, like an engine. You can’t quite feel it through the table you’re lying on. The sound is steady and lulling, like white noise. You’re sure it’s something you’d be able to sleep to ordinarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You smack your tongue and lick your lips. Your mouth and lips are dryer than sandpaper and taste like death. Alternatively, your limbs feel heavy and solid as if filled with lead, this plight specifically affecting your arms laying beside you. You let your eyebrows furrow. You don’t suppose there’s any harm in getting some feeling back into those bad boys. You hoist yourself upright with a hefty grunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="selector">&gt; John: Realize you've made a small yet awful mistake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">You do, but all too late. Vertigo hits you like a ten ton truck and the moment you try to stand yourself up, your knees buckle and you crumple to the ground knee first. The vision that you had only recently regained is temporarily tainted by splotches of bullshit that causes your already terrible eyesight to swim, so you blink once, then twice in an effort to clear your head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You remain on the floor for a moment, breathing heavily. Those tiles look very interesting. Jesus, the work that must’ve gone into building...whatever this structure is that you’re currently situated on. Fucking immaculate. You can actually feel that rather specific humming that you were hearing before, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Despite having just taken the most supreme nap of your briefly shortened life, you know full well that the floor isn’t the most comfortable of places to take a nap, so you slowly and semi-painfully drag a sluggish arm inwards in an attempt to pry yourself from the floor. Your other arm follows soon after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">Although, however determined you might be to lever yourself up from the floor, determination doesn’t play a role in stopping heavy and steady footsteps from entering the room, and then stopping right in front of your face. You do not have a good idea of who it is without getting a good look at their physique.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>    <span class="dirk">DIRK: Wakey wakey.</span><br/>
</b>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You squint your eyes against moderate darkness and incredible blurriness to sink in the corporal form of none other than The Dirk Motherfuckin’ Strider. Your mouth hangs lazily open in tandem with your scrunched forehead and narrowed eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>    <b><span class="john">JOHN: ...dirk?</span><br/>
</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">You ask that question with a croak, despite knowing the pointlessness of it. You don’t know why you expect to get some sort of verbal confirmation. Dirk just stares down at you, expression unchanging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>    <b><span class="john">JOHN: what’s...</span><br/>
</b></p><p>
  <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: what’s going on? where really am i??</span><br/>
</b></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: also, why are you wearing that?? you look like some kinda anime guy.</span><br/>
</b></b> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk chews on the inside of his lip as he listens. Yeah. He doesn’t know how he’s going to work with this, if at ALL, if you don’t understand the full context of the situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>    <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: Well, those are expertly crafted questions.</span><br/>
</b></p><p>
  <b> <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: Ones which I’ll certainly have ample time to answer, given that you’re able to stand.</span><br/>
</b></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: you can’t just tell me why now?</span><br/>
</b></b> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk pauses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>    <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: ...Nah. I’d much rather discuss when we’re in a more appropriate setting to do so.</span><br/>
</b></p><p>
  <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: is the floor not appropriate enough to s...</span><br/>
</b></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: can the floor not be approp...no.</span><br/>
</b></b> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b> <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: “Is the floor not appropriate enough to act as a setting?”</span><br/>
</b></b> </b> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: yeah, that. sorry.</span><br/>
</b></b> </b> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">Dirk grunts indifferently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>    <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: When and if you can, you should meet me down the hall. </span><br/>
</b></p><p>
  <b> <b><span class="dirk">DIRK: My room’s on the left. </span><br/>
</b></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <b> <b><span class="john">JOHN: ok.</span><br/>
</b></b> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="main">You’re about to ask which direction he was referring to, but alas, he’s already left the room. You can deal with that. It might give you plenty of time to explore your current environment. Of course, like Dirk said, given that you can stand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">As you watch him leave, you can't help but notice that the silence is back, and simultaneously louder this time around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="main">You have a feeling it's going to be a long day.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ACT 1 - SCENE 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>of assholery, long-winded explanations, and reunions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="main">So you’re on a ship, and a nice one, at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="main">This “you”, of course, being YOU, John Egbert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Clarification when writing is important, even if you’re not writing prose. For all we know, this “you” could have been YOU, meaning you, the reader. But I already went into that and I’m not about to do it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Yes, I know. Hello, hi, greetings. I’m behind this narration. I can almost hear the booing and cussing from the floor seats. Are you surprised? It’s likely you aren’t. C’mon, give your smooth brains a run for their money every once in a while. Sometimes you can carve a good wrinkle or two out of them. This features me, an omnipotent being, for the love of God. If it wasn’t me telling the story, then who else would be putting words into my mouth? The dead cherub’s out of the picture for now, so I’ve got a vast amount of time to myself. Might as well put it to use, however, whether that use is good or bad is up to you. I don’t give a fuck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Let’s put John on pause for a minute. Or rather, let’s put his action on pause for a minute. He’s about to walk into what he assumes is my room, blundering about and let me know that he is rather obviously ready to swallow a big ‘ol spoonful of information that he is in no way prepared to receive. I had previously referred to him as “remarkable in his unremarkableness”, and I have no reason to discard my allegiance to that statement. The guy was almost vored by an ugly green brute that happened to be one jacked motherfucker, sloppily performed the backseat tango with his sort-of-girlfriend and then died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">To be fair, much of that was my doing, but no apologies will be delivered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Anyway, time to unpause. We’re back with you, John Egbert, as you prepare to enter my supposed room with a tentative knock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Come in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">You crack the bedroom door open upon registering my vocal confirmation, and figure that you might as well slip yourself in. I didn’t say you couldn’t, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: uh...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: yeah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">Dude, I’m right in front of you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: oh yeah.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...wait.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: huh?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">You quirk quizzically at me, gesturing between the two of us with your index finger. See? Blundering around.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>  JOHN: hey, i’m not doing...whatever it is you say i’m doing!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Aren’t you?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...wh...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...you didn’t move your lips.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Welcome to the voice inside your head, home to one permanent resident. Which would be me.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: huh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: reminds me of the carapacians and when they did that. there was this one that kept screaming at me to do stuff at one time, heh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I know.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...ok then.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">After a brief pause, I stand up from behind my desk, facing backwards from a large, orange-tinted window. A glow washes up and over my shoulders and envelops the room in a mood of slight urgency. I feel eyes on me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: wow.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: that’s quite the getup, and i don’t even really care about fashion that much.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: You like it?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...eh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: it looks too dramatic, like something from an anime. i kinda like the cape, though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Of course, an anime-esque outfit seems appropriate for my current situation, so I’ll take that as a “yes”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ok, seriously, how are you doing that??</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I was getting to that part.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: it sounds like your voice is the voice in my head.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...did i already talk about how this feels like the carapacians?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Yeah.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: oh. hmm.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: i’m still getting used to being alive.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: how’d you do that, by the way?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Yeesh, patience is a virtue, John. Stick to one question at a time and you might just spare me a bitchin’ migraine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Okay. Hold the phone, dude. You asked another question before you asked that question, so I’m going to answer that question first.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ok.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I’m going to preface this by asking you a question, now. And then afterwards, I hope I’m going to stop repeating the word “question”.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: ...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">I take a fleeting mental note on John’s current posture and body placement while scanning over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: You might as well sit down. It could be a while.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: is it really that complicated of a thing to explain?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: well, besides the fact that it’s you that’s explaining it.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: sorry for the assumption dude, i don’t really know you TOO well. i’m just remembering things that rose and dave and roxy have told me.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: wow. that seems like forever ago.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Mm.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...continue.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Right.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Do you remember anything you did before you left to fight Lord English?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: not off of the top of my head, no. nothing exact.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: but i remember some of the bigger things, like me almost getting eaten, and seeing terezi.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: and...then i think i died?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: man, i wonder how terezi’s doing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">John absentmindedly scratches the side of his face as he contemplates upon the whereabouts of his alien sorta-girlfriend. Gee, if only she were on this very vessel with us, approximately 100 yards away from my room. If only, indeed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Do you remember talking to Rose?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: before fighting lord english? no, i don’t...no, i don’t think so.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...oh, but there was this one thing, like, WAY before i went to fight.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Before the picnic?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...yeah.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: how do you know about that?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: and the other thing i mentioned earlier?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: It’s one of omnipotence’s more versatile side effects.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">One of John’s twitches upwards a tick. Evidently, he’s interested. I wouldn’t expect any less of him, really. I’m not blind to his canon-altering retconning ability that was graciously bestowed on him during Sburb, so I’m going to gradually redirect this conversation towards something less of a monologue. I’ll meet him eye to eye, if I must. There are some things about this that are imperative for him to understand, no matter how simpleminded my recipient is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: omnipotence...that’s not like a regular god tier perk, i don’t think.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: is it?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Nope, not at all. God tiers come with semi omnipotence with conditional immortality.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: i know.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I know you know. I’m not finished.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: After the game, I became more retrospective about my power and what it meant to be a true Prince of Heart, or as an old acquaintance helped me understand it, a Destroyer of Souls.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Only when you decipher the meaning of your respective Classpect do you gain the teensiest inkling of what it means to reach your Ultimate Self.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Honestly, I should be paying you a hearty “thank you” for cementing that for me, but I’m not going to do that. Not worth my time.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: wow. didn’t you just technically thank me just now, though?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: No. Otherwise, I wouldn't have added that last bit about me literally not wanting to thank you.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: hm. ok.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: so what exactly did i do that you wanna thank me for?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: In layman’s terms, you ate a thick ass slice of raw meat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">The sides of John’s mouth scrunch up closer to his nose in a revolted grimace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: eugh. why the HELL would i do that??</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Don’t ask me. You’re the one that chose to slobber that shit down like you were at the finest informal dining establishment man could offer.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: And right when there was a delectable plate of candy next to you, too. No clue what was going through your head.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Frankly, I don’t give that much of a shit about that particular detail. It got myself and the others to where we needed to be.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: You eat some uncooked steak probably without considering the risk of contracting worms, you go fight lord english, and I become God.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: that sounds...actually, that doesn’t sound simple at all.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Good on you for catching on.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: There was a lot of thinking and theorizing to sift through. I sensed that the process of realizing my Ultimate Self wouldn’t be so easy as to arrive without pain, so I adapted to it as quickly as I could. Efficiency and all that.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Made it all the easier for me to provide someone else a cushion beneath their metatextual head when I found that they were going through the same thing.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: That cushion being both proverbial and literal, that is.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I helped her come to realize that neither of us were suited for the sultry life that awaited us on Earth C, shrouded in complete irrelevance. So we left, and took your corpse for the ride.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: And in case you need me to clarify, this is a spaceship.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ok. i didn’t need you to do that, but ok.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Okay.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: how does that explain you knowing all that other stuff, or being able to become the voice in my head?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: H-</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: oh, that has to do with being omnipotent, right? you can probably manipulate canon or not canon or something? that would make sense.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: W-</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: also, who else is here?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Oh my god, can you let me do what I need to do?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">I sigh, just a little. Holy fuck, I’ve listened to Dave ramble on and on about addleheaded horseshit and he still had the decency to not repeatedly interrupt me. Most of the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: sorry, heheh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">“Heheh” my leftmost asscheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: got carried away. continue.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Anyway, answering your first question.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: As I mentioned, being all-knowing of every single thing that’s happening in our universe is a side effect of being omnipotent.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: And being omnipotent in our universe is something that could be likened to an author.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: With the power I have, I can maneuver any story involving you and I with moderate ease, and to my will, anytime.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: That voice you’re hearing inside your head is my actual voice, echoing through your mind and acting as a directive for everything you’re going to do.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: huh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: so is free will just...not a thing anymore?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: If I’m the one with ultimate control, yes.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Pardon the pun.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: haha, nah.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: None of us really had free will to begin with, if I’m being honest.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Throughout our lives there’s always been someone of a higher existence than ours directing us, and dictating our decisions.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Even someone as aware of our situation as I am. There’s still gotta be someone that’s deciding every word I say, and every action I make.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: it’s kinda funny.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: the way you’re saying all of this is like you’re saying that we’ve all been characters in some sort of book or comic, and not like, actual people.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">I stare at John point blank in the peepers from my seat, without a word. His expression shifts from one vague amusement to one that seems to say “oh shit, you’re not joking about this”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...oh shit, you’re not joking about this.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: wow...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...so, none of the stuff i’ve done,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: playing the game, seeing my friends, being BORN is just...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: some part of a story?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Yeah.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">John’s eyes are glassy and they don’t seem to be looking directly at me like they were before. Despite my obvious dislike for them and their owner, who can blame them? After all, eyes are said to be the mirror to the mind, and John’s mind is somewhere different right now. In a place that’s slightly more deep, dark and confusing. Existential crises are rough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">This conversation is useless to drag on for much longer. I’ve told John what’s most important for him to know, and he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings or me at the moment, so any remaining additional information that I have’ll be bluntly dropped on his head at a later time. I stand myself up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: ...wow.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: that is a lot to process.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Yeah. Admittedly, it took me a while to get used to.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: The unfortunate reality for us is that fates do exist.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: clearly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">John exhales out of his mouth long and slow as he rises from his sitting position. I catch myself staring, since a simple exchange of oxygen for carbon dioxide appears to be so interesting to me for whatever reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I think we’re done talking for now, but there was another question you asked that I’d like to address.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: About who else was on this ship.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: oh. yeah.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">I gesture for John to follow me out of my room with a tilt of my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: See for yourself.</span>
</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Admittedly, a journal seems like an appropriate way to pass the time on this journey.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: However, either my memory serves me or you have a ship that you should be piloting.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: 1 4M P1LOT1NG TH3 SH1P</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: T3CHN1C4LLY TH3 SH1P 1S P1LOT1NG 1TS3LF B3C4US3 1T H4S 4N 4UTOP1ILOT OPT1ON WH1CH 1S ON B4S1CALLY 4LL TH3 T1M3</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: L1K3 R1GHT NOW</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: BUT DONT TH1NK 1M SH1RK1NG MY DUT13S 4S 4 P1LOT MRS L4V3ND3R BLOSSOM &gt;:[</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Right. I’ll be sure not to misstep in that particular area in the foreseeable future that we have on this ship.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Oh? What approacheth from ye field of view? I retreat from the shadows of a hallway obscured by one of the ship’s walls, followed by John. His eyes immediately brighten upon seeing the ladies in front of him. Particularly the alien one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Hey.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Hello.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: It seems that Lazarus has risen.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: rose! oh sweet, you’re here. that’s great.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Rosebot returns John’s ear-to-ear smile with the hint of a robotic grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: It’s good to see you.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: :)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">John directs his attention towards Terezi next. Good god. How does one muster up the courage to hold a casual conversation with the one they died giving a love confession to? I have no idea, because I’m not a fucking pussy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: W3LL</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="terezi">  TEREZI: TH3 DUMB4SS 1S B4CK 1N 4CT1ON 1T S33MS</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">  JOHN: yeah, yeah. hi to you too, terezi.<br/><span class="john">  JOHN: it’s good to be back. i liked being alive.<br/><span class="john">  JOHN: and now i have people on here i know and care about that i can talk to, so...<br/><span class="john">  JOHN: that makes it all the more better to be able to stand it here.<br/><span class="terezi">  TEREZI: 1M FL4TT3R3D TH4T YOU C4N TOL3R4T3 M3 JOHN &gt;:]</span><br/><span class="john">  JOHN: don’t mention it.<br/><span class="terezi">  TEREZI: NO</span><br/><span class="terezi">  TEREZI: 1 D3F1N1T3LY W1LL</span><br/><span class="john">  JOHN: ...of course.<br/><span class="terezi">  TEREZI: ...</span><br/><span class="john">  JOHN: ...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Rosebot and I stand farther away, observing and talking amongst ourselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Sweet jesus.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: He’d be flattered, I’m sure.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Or perhaps quizzical, that someone other than him was able to perform the noble act of resurrection on another dead man.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: I’m not much for Biblical lore. You know how engrossed I was in more material fantastical subjects.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Indeed I do.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: How did you do it?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: With minor difficulty.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Grit, spit, and a whole lot of patience.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: Against my expectations, though, it did take him shorter to wake up than I figured.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: This Lazarus wasn’t much for death, I figure. Got sick of the bastard as quickly as he could and ollied the fuck out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Rosebot narrows her painted eyelids as she looks over, with me, at John and Terezi. There’s an air between them, somewhat similar to the one in the car but not nearly as tinted with sensuality. It’s more of an aura of familiarity, if anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: She’d better thank me later. Her boyfriend’s a tad insufferable.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Of course you’d find him to be that way.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">  DIRK: I’m going to ignore any and all subtext behind that vaguely accusatory statement.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">  ROSEBOT: Good luck, father dearest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="ultdirk">Rosebot tosses the slightest upward tilt of her chin in my direction before stepping off to join the other two. Read into that what you will, and do with it what you must, as with the sort-of-ominous statement above. That’s not my problem.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">And now that Egbert’s all well and alive, my original goals haven’t shifted. As a quartet, we will still touch down upon the new planet, and create a new session of Sburb. It’s what we exist to do, and it’s what has to be done. But, as what comes naturally with the beauteous miracle of life, there comes overarching doubt: what’ll happen if x happens?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">Good question. If John sticks to my side of the court, things won’t be fucked up, and the only looming threat we have would be the one behind us, which is another ship boarded by 4 people and a dead cherub girl.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">Things get messy if and when John ever decides to wield his ignorance as a weapon and becomes my adversary. But, suffice to say that won’t ever happen.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="ultdirk">And I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>social plugs</p>
<p>instagram: meloncoolie<br/>tumblr: meloncoolie<br/>twitter: djbeeb</p>
<p>i also have a soundcloud but you'll have to find it haha</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i might upload a new chapter like. maybe every 2 weeks? i'll certainly try my best. </p><p>social media plugs:<br/>instagram - meloncoolie<br/>tumblr - meloncoolie<br/>twitter - DjBeeb</p><p>i'll keep you posted on there. until next time '  ,:^)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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